Us
by AsWeAreNow
Summary: America's doppelgänger tries to murder him. America names him Alfred. Based partly off of the horror movie 'Us'.


When America saw the news, he was surprised. However, he was not in the slightest surprised when his own monster came for him. Maybe he had expected it, actually, long before any of this shit happened.

Still, let's back up a little bit. He sat and watched the news, transfixed for a bit by the scenes on the television. He winced as he watched his own citizens, slaughtered.

And then he heard a scratching at the door. _Jokes on this dude, _he thought sullenly, _because this place is a goddamn fortress. _

He got up and moved slowly, wondering if this doppelgänger would have his same strength, his same determination, his immortality. Any of that, really, and he was fucked.

He slowly, ever so slowly, moved across his dozens of windows. Perhaps he didn't particularly mind a doppelgänger coming to kill him— surprisingly enough, he wasn't very afraid. He was not determined to die this night, though. After all, "I have a World Meeting tomorrow," he mumbled to himself.

He made his way to his bedroom, which was perhaps the most insecure place in the mansion despite being near the door. Then again, of course, his doppelgänger could be anywhere.

He wasn't surprised until he saw his doppelgänger, standing in his bedroom, window smashed open. The other him smiled, stepping up to him and reaching into a pocket to produce overly large scissors.

America had no intention of dying that night, so he ran. He quickly rounded a corner and decided on one of the open doors. His doppelgänger would probably think like he did— except he wouldn't. America had a room with guns on display, but only one was actually loaded.

He had never had to shoot anybody in his country before. He had been prepared to, sure, but it was never required. America wasn't particularly proud of it, but his citizens had always done his dirty work for him.

(Text Break.)

He sat there for several moments, clutching the pistol tightly. Soon, almost against his will, he found himself putting it down. He watched as the figure came in. "Hey, ol' buddy," he whispered.

His new-found friend, of course, reminded him of someone else he used to know. Not him, of course, but close enough. He wondered numbly: _if I'm captured, will he go to the World Meeting for me? _

His new-found friend lunged at him. America stayed still for a moment, shocked, before sliding back, trying to fight his doppelgänger off of him. His doppelgänger was immensely strong. Maybe a bit stronger than he was, if not more determined.

Holding America's wrists in one hand and pinning him against the wall, he took the scissors. America graced himself, trying to hunch over even though he could not.

He reeled back as much as he could, and then slammed his head into the other's chest, hard.

For just a second, he thought, _maybe he could be my friend. _After all, heroes were able to be friends with everyone. Right?

Wrong. And that second had been very valuable.

His doppelgänger was already getting up again, already staggering towards him. America reached for the gun and shot him in the head, the shot ringing in his ears for a long time. His doppelgänger fell, and America shot him again, this time in the chest.

He sat there next to his doppelgänger, his friend, for a few minutes. Suddenly the thought of shooting himself made him sick. It was disturbing, he supposed, to see how much it would take another person to kill him.

He didn't feel anything right now.

"I think I'll call you Alfred," he said to the corpse. "Alfred F. Jones. There. That's a nice name, dear. From the very best. Don't you like it?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry to part ways with you like this, love. Not so shortly after we've been reunited. But I'm afraid you've got to go now. I'll take you to the police station. I'm sorry. I suppose you weren't noble enough for a war this time, eh?"

The corpse didn't respond. He watched as the blood slowly reversed. _Oh. So that's what a nation looks like when they've been fatally wounded. _

_Does it hurt? _

America shot him in the second head again. "Just for good measure," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

He kicked the scissors away from Alfred, and picked him up. Blood was on his clothes, in his hair. Blood was seeping into his gloves as he carried Alfred to the car. "To the police station we go," he said, and then whistled a sad little tune. "Remember that one?" He asked, smiling. "That was such a good one. Did you ever hear such a thing?"

The corpse didn't respond.

"You're like me. It's why I gave you my name. You can keep it. There aren't enough Alfred F. Joneses in the world. Not enough heroes."

They were at a red light. America reached across and buckled Alfred's seatbelt, sighing.

"You know, of course this had to happen tonight," America said, watching as the people in red formed a roadblock. "I have a meeting to go to tomorrow. I wonder if the others know what's going on."

The corpse didn't respond.

Two police officers were sitting in the police station. "Good evening," America said, although it was clearly anything but.

"Strange way to start a conversation on a night like this. What have you got there?"

"I shot him. He's dead." America frowned. "I call him Alfred. I don't know what to do with him, and I have things to do tomorrow. Careful that he doesn't wake up again."

He left after that.

"It's going to be a hell of a world meeting, isn't it?" He muttered to himself, driving back home.

And it was.

**Hey, everyone. A review would be nice. Have a good day, drink water, stay safe. And don't play with scissors. **

**I know what the meaning of 'Us' is supposed to be. This just reflected what I initially thought during the movie— "Most people in America own guns. Why not just shoot them?"**

**They are, though, 'us'. I also found it weird that none of the characters ever seemed particularly disturbed at killing their other, specifically the children. Shit like that tends to fuck you up. **

**Anyway, this is just the result of some thinking while on a plane. After I had this idea, I thought, "what would the other nations think of this, as America told them?" And thus, World Meeting. **

**This will probably be one of very few crossovers. I'm not particularly keen on that sort of thing. Unless I find another horror movie that is as intensely thought provoking, I might not write another crossover. I can't say that I definitely won't. I'm ever the optimist. **

**There were a lot of things I was going to include in this story, but I decided against it. I might write a second part to this— the World Meeting and aftermath, I suppose. Maybe I'll do that later. **

**Sorry if the spacing is weird. I tried to fix it, but who knows if that'll work? This website is shit in app form. I'll fix it if it is weird. Hopefully. **


End file.
